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We were in bed and both feeling amorous and she wanted to take me inside her. “Get that cock hard… “

I started getting my cock hard for her and she asked “Why aren’t you hard for me already?”

I let her know about how, with the exception of morning wood, it’s rare for me to be able to simply summon an erection without her input into it. Without her asking for it, demanding it, whispering about things – without her involvement. It’s taken a long time to get to that point, but it really is a case that my physical arousal is almost always contingent on her being present and wanting me to be aroused. Sure, there are others that I am with at times and I find my way to arousal, but it does take time.

It was a kind of casual fucking we were sharing and we talked as we entwined our bodies and she took her pleasures from me. “How long has it been since you spilled?”

“44 days” offering that latest denial length.

“What’s the longest you’ve gone… “ I was unable to answer precisely. I knew there was a time of 122 days. And I know there were times of other durations around 100 days, over and under.

“But it doesn’t matter much to me” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m so not worried about cumming any more” I explained as I slowly fucked her. “I like the orgasms I can have, but I’m not so worried about cumming. It’s just not as important as being part of your pleasure.” She smiled, pulled me into her with her leg.

“Go on… “

“I love being part of your pleasure. And it’s cliche, but I really do enjoy pleasuring you.” We paused speaking as we fucked. “Cumming is great, but I don’t like how I feel after and it’s far better feeling you cum around me.” I pinched at her nipple and she gasped. “I feel bad that I sometimes have to stop fucking because I’m too close to cumming. I wish I’d be able to fuck you exactly the way you want and not have to stop. I’m okay with you pushing me out when you’re done. To have me pull out when you tell me to heel, to have me stop once your pleasure is done.”

“I’m done, pull out” she said abruptly. I whimpered and pulled out.

We spoke some more and soon went to bed. She told me to blog about my denial, my service, my orgasms, my cumming.

I find myself in this cliche world that I really do enjoy her taking her pleasure from me. And while it’s sometimes defeating when she orders me to heel, to pull out, I do try to remember that it’s what I’m asking for. And I really do wish that I was able to fuck in whatever way she wanted for as long as she wants. And that she’d be able to speak any of the words and stories she’d like that would drive me crazy would not push me over the edge, but only to the edge where she could have me dangle for minutes on end all while she watches me struggle and writhe and whimper. And in the same way keep me hard, ready and fucking her until she was able to take her orgasm and then be done with me. I’ve mentioned n the past to her that I wish that my orgasm could be triggered by her granting permission – that perhaps I wouldn’t be able to cum unless she uttered some certain words or phrase – that my cumming would be 100% totally within her hands. I wonder sometimes if we could achieve that with training or hypnosis. I’ve been reading some information about the Masters and Johnson technique.

When I do cum, my behavior changes for a few days. It’s not the best of experiences although I’ve tried to become better with it – and I think with some noticeable improvement. But she does like my cumming. She likes my submission in cleaning up after myself and she simply likes making me do it. It’s enjoyable for her to make me cum, so of course she should be having me do so.

And yes, I accept my denial. I enjoy it. I get off on being told I can’t get off. But I’m not one of those people that never ever wants to cum again. Even if she never made me cum again, I’d still want to know that there’s some hope that I will cum. Even if she picks up the goalpost and moves it every week, I need to know that there’s a goalpost out there. “Oh, pup, maybe in summer we can let you cum… “ and then Fusion can come and go and a birthday and then we find ourselves having the last gin and tonic on Labor Day weekend and she can suggest “pup, perhaps you’ll have something to be thankful for in November? You can wait until then, right?” And then we’d find the new year coming around with promises that the present not given might come in the next year. THAT is the kind of denial I’m looking at. I’m not the type that fantasizes about her saying “Pup, we’re locking you up until the next decade, then we’ll throw some dice to see if you cum.” No, not that at all. And yeah, yeah I also do enjoy her whispering to me the stories of my not cumming again… but it does always turn up that we have a goalpost – but just not always. Damn, I’m awfully needy about my denial!

I’m not sure if there’s much of a POINT to this post, but let me try and sum up, as I write a distracted post. I do love pleasuring her. I do love cumming. I do love denial. And I love her tormenting me with her denying my spill. I wish I could fuck better and bring her more pleasure in that way without having to pullout. That’s a real nuisance. But I still very much enjoy our time together and our coupling and her taking pleasure. It’s a beautiful thing and I enjoy being there with her.

Last night, we made time to play together in bed. We had been out and about doing our own thing yesterday, came together in the middle of the day and then made our own little pub crawl, visiting three breweries/restaurants yesterday afternoon and evening. Settling into our nest of a bedroom, we watched a little TV and then started playing. It was one of those nights where we struggled for control. She incited me and I pinned her arms. I fucked her while I did this. She has trouble talking when I do it, which is more than half the fun. Soon she wrested control back and she was using me. My cock was too ready to explode, so I finished her with one of our most favorite dildos, fucking her very hard with it until she came.

You know when you have a bucket that is just full to the top? And you try and move that bucket? It’s going to spill, you’re aware of it, you know it, but just because it’s a bucket, it’s going to spill. The cock spilled too, as the balls are so very full, overfull. It was a beautiful lubricant for me to finish her with the dildo, but she insisted that she be cleaned up again after. She stroked me while I did so. Three more times I needed her to stop while she did so to prevent the bucket from being knocked clean over.

Then while lying beside her, she held tightly to my cock and balls while she talked to me. “That was nice, but what am I going to do with that cock of mine? It can’t fuck me the way I want.” She stroked her cock slowly. “It just seems you can’t use your cock on me the way I need it.” She squeezed my balls. “I like your begging. I really do. I love watching your face as you struggle.” She stroked my cock again.

“But struggle all you want. And beg all you want. You’re not going to cum.” She released my cock and rolled over on her side, her back toward me. “Pet me to sleep, slave.”

“Yes, Ma’am” I whimpered.

She continued talking. “I really do love using you, it’s fun. But I can get myself off without you. And you’ve already showed that your cock isn’t useful enough to me. But you never would have handled my pussy squeezing that cock. You would have spilled.” I pet her back and shoulders. “But you don’t have to worry about spilling that cum, love. I’m just not going to let you. There’s just no reason for you to cum, ever again.”

I don’t do caption photos, but this one seems to accurate. I just have to.

Ever again. EVER. AGAIN. It echoed in my head, my eyes welled up. I stroked her lower back and butt. I sobbed into the pillow. She spoke slowly and quietly. Each sentence with a pause at the end of it. A pause so that I could hear the echo of the hammer that just pounded that nail.

“No pup, there’s just no reason for it.

I don’t need it,

so it won’t be happening again.”

I sobbed into my pillow again.

“You know pup, it seems a shame that we never officially said good bye to your cumming.

We should have a ceremony, where we say good bye to your cumming forever.

We’ll have lots of friends and we’ll have a ceremony so all these friends of ours can say good bye to your cumming too.

That might be helpful to you, a ceremony to say good bye.”

She never indicated that I’d have a last cum during that ceremony, but I implied it, perhaps inaccurately. I humped my body against hers. She continued her slow methodical phrase by phrase talking.

“Go ahead, hump into me if you want,

push that hard cock into me,

but it’s not going to cum.

It doesn’t ever need to cum again.

Don’t worry, there will be cum for you.

It just won’t be yours.

It’ll be on your face,

you can lap it up off my tits,

and maybe if you’re very good,

out of my pussy.”

I rubbed her back and she fell asleep. I stopped humping against her and sobbed into my pillow, then fell asleep shortly after her.

She teased me again around 2:30 in the morning, using me for a little while, but then her talk of “ever again” came up, and I almost came, and she was done with me and put me back to bed.

This morning she told me “Last night was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed it.” I smiled. She saw my cock rise under the sheets. “You had fun too…” she looked down at me. I nodded at her. “I know, pup.” She grabbed my cock through the sheets. “I know.”

“I don’t last long when you talk about that, you know.”

She smiled. “I was only speaking the truth last night. Nothing but the truth.” She pumped my cock one or two times and stood up again from the bed. “Get up now and write about it, pup.”

And so I’ve written about it. And I’ve set this post to show up in a little while, after I’m at work and have stopped thinking about those words “ever again”. I’m still not sure whether it’s real or not. And I think that’s exactly what she expects.